


A Prophesied Family

by Eleana_Lee



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Prophecy, Seer Draco, minor mentions of mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 19:34:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7187231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eleana_Lee/pseuds/Eleana_Lee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco knows that his visions will come true. He really does. That doesn’t mean he believes in them, although he secretly hopes that they will</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Prophesied Family

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Notes: This was really fun to write. I haven’t been writing much, so when I find a prompt that I like, I’ll be really happy to write it out. Hopefully the prompter is satisfied with my fill =) Beta: tavia_d I did a bit of research on Seers and Prophecies in the Harry Potter verse, but if there are any inaccuracies, I apologise in advance.
> 
> This was written for the hd mpreg fest, prompt #75: Draco is a Seer, but he doesn't understand his latest vision, even though he's as certain as magic exists it will come true: He will have a child with Harry Potter
> 
> Disclaimer: This piece of fiction is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, andWarner Bros. Inc. No money is being made, no copyright or trademark infringement, or offense is intended. All characters depicted in sexual situations are above the age of consent.

Draco walked down between the shelves of the Hall of Prophecy, guided by touch as he kept his eyes closed. He knew the Hall like the back of his hand, having spent most of his day there for the past three years, and walking between the shelves gave him a sense of peace he had never known before.  
  
Some wizards and witches said that he had lucked out. Truthfully, he agreed with them.  
  
When the War came to a close, he had prepared himself to be tried. He knew that his whole family would be tried for their war crimes, for their involvement with the Dark Lord, and he had resigned himself to whatever punishment they could think of for him.  
  
It was while he was sitting in his old room, at peace with himself and waiting for the Aurors to come and find him, that a vision came to him, and he himself was shocked beyond belief. He never had any visions during Divination class, but there was no mistaking it.  
  
The vision was as clear as day. It looked so real, that for one moment he questioned his sanity. In it, he was walking down a room filled with rows and rows of shelves, but instead of books, there were glass orbs filled with mist. The slightly older version of him in his vision was holding onto one such orb, and he stopped in front of one of the shelves, and placed the orb among all the other orbs.  
  
When he came to, there was a similar glass orb with a mist inside in his grasp. He looked at it questioningly, and when the Aurors found him, the Head Auror ordered for him to be brought to the Ministry. What surprised him was that he wasn’t brought there for a trial, but to be questioned about his prophecy.  
  
“A prophecy? How did you know I had a vision?” Draco queried.  
  
The Unspeakables looked at each other, then brought him to a room. His eyes widened when he saw the rows of shelves with the glass orbs there, and realised that was the same room that he saw in his vision.  
  
“This is the Hall of Prophecy,” one of the Unspeakables, an elderly woman with greying hair and kind brown eyes, said. “Now that you are here, there are only two ways you can exit. First, you agree to become part of us, a member of the Department of Mysteries. Second, we will have to Obliviate you.”  
  
“You already know what I am going to choose,” Draco countered.  
  
“That is true,” the Unspeakable said. “You cannot run from your own future. It is a rare gift that you have.”  
  
“Seers are rare,” Draco pointed out. “That does not make my gift any more special.”  
  
The woman laughed at that. “How wrong you are, my dear boy,” she said. “It is rare for a Seer to be able to predict their own future. Even rarer is one that can see the future clearly, and still remember it. Most Seers are in a trance when they prophesy.”  
  
“I do not understand, though,” he said. “I have never had a vision before. Why now?”  
  
“The trigger could be anything,” the elderly woman explained. “It could be the environment, or it could be differences within yourself. Maybe it comes with age; or maybe it depends on your state of mind.”  
  
“So I will have to find this trigger if I want to see the future, right?”  
  
“To put it simply, yes. However, most of the time, it is not that simple. For example, you might not be able to control your trigger,” she said. “It will be helpful if you could find it, but otherwise, we welcome you to our ranks.”  
  
“I… you know I was to put on trial for…”  
  
“We know,” another Unspeakable said. “But Seers are very few and far in between. To find such a skilled Seer and condemn him to Azkaban seems to be a silly move. We cannot guarantee that you will be unpunished, but you will not be exiled or sent to Azkaban.”  
  
And that was how he found himself here. Miranda, the elderly Unspeakable, had been correct. He was put under house arrest and constant surveillance when he went to work at the Ministry for the first two years, but when he didn’t show any signs of wanting to resurrect the Dark Lord or to start his own revolution, he was allowed to move around more freely.  
  
Regardless, he spent most of his time in the Hall of Prophecy. The place gave him a sense of calm that helped with his visions. Miranda was correct yet again, and she only smiled in self-satisfaction when he told her so. He would indulge her, because she reminded him of his own mother in a way, and because she had been his mentor as he was starting his position as an Unspeakable.  
  
Today, however, he had a vision that he never expected.  
  
 _A man with platinum blonde hair sat on a bed, his back resting against the headboard, a content expression gracing his features. His belly was slightly rounded, not enough to be obvious, but it was there. In his arms, a young boy, two years old at most, curled asleep while sucking his thumb, soft dark hair fanning over his forehead and closed eyes._  
  
A knock sounded, disturbing the silence in the room.  
  
“Come on in,” the man called, shifting slightly. The boy shifted as well, but went back to sleep immediately.  
  
“Hey, Dray,” a dark-haired man called as he walked into the room, holding onto the hand of a young blonde girl.  
  
Draco’s eyes snapped open as he gasped. The faces had been blurry in the vision, which was weird, because his visions were usually very clear, but there was no mistaking the voice. He had heard that voice multiple times as he grew up, and sometimes it even haunted his dreams.  
  
What did the vision mean? Was he the pregnant man on the bed? How did he get pregnant? And were those children his?  
  
Most importantly, why was Harry Potter there?  
  
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.  
  
Draco stared at the sphere on his night stand as if it had personally offended him. When he came to with it in his hand, the mist swirling inside, he had hidden it in the folds of his robe and hurriedly left for home. He couldn’t leave it in the Halls of Prophecy for others to see.  
  
“What am I supposed to do with this?” Draco mused. “I wonder if I can change the future. I suppose I will have to ask Miranda about it.”  
  
The night after he had the vision was sleepless for him. His mother and Miranda had asked if something was wrong, but of course he couldn’t tell them what was bothering him. He stayed up late into the night thinking about all of the possibilities. Maybe he was married to Potter’s friend and he was there to help babysit? Maybe he was a single parent and Potter, ever the hero, decided to help him take care of the kids?  
  
Of course, there was also the possibility that they were together and had children together, but he refused to think about it. They were no longer hostile to each other, sure, but that didn’t mean they were friendly with each other either.  
  
A week after the mysterious vision, he finally gathered the courage to ask Miranda how he could change the future.  
  
“There is close to none,” Miranda said. “The reason why Seers are usually unable to see their own future is because prophecies will happen, no matter what. It might be in the way you expect it to be, but no matter how much you try, it will find a way to come to pass.”  
  
“Like the prophecy about the Dark Lord,” Draco mumbled. “He didn’t know which child would defeat him, but one of them did, in the end.”  
  
“That is correct,” Miranda confirmed. “What did you see, anyway, child? I’m sure it’s not as bad as another Dark Lord uprising.”  
  
“Not at all, but it is quite personal,” Draco said. “I just… do not quite believe it could happen.”  
  
Miranda smiled kindly. “Fate is always up to mischief, my dear,” she said. “Now then, shall we have morning tea together? Maybe it will help ease some of your worries.”  
  
“I doubt it, but thank you. Let us have some tea.”  
  
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.  
  
After his talk with Miranda, he began having more and more visions about his future family, like snippets of dreams of a life that he so desperately wished he could have. The prophecies were starting to fill up his room, but he didn’t want to put any of them in the Hall of Prophecy, and he didn’t want to destroy them either.  
  
Gradually, he began to fall in love. He fell in love with the idea that a happy, domestic life could be his. He fell in love with his children; his beautiful daughter, his lovely baby boy, and even the unborn baby. He also fell in love with the caring man and good father that was Harry Potter in his visions.  
  
The more he liked the visions, the more he doubted them. Would he really be fortunate enough to have that dream life? Would it really come to pass? What if these visions were more like the visions he would see in the Mirror of Erised?  
  
“Something is bothering you,” Miranda commented. “Why do you doubt yourself?”  
  
“Because I do not deserve it,” Draco said softly, nursing his cup of tea. He refused to look her in the eyes, for fear he would see pity in them.  
  
A gentle hand was placed on his shoulder. He looked up and was surprised to see a kind smile on her face. Her laugh lines were more pronounced when she smiled, but Draco thought they made her look more beautiful. He wished his mother would one day have laugh lines too, as proof that she had led a happy life filled with laughter and joy, even after all the things that happened during the Wars.  
  
“The harshest judge is usually yourself,” Miranda said, squeezing Draco’s shoulder gently. “Who is to judge what you deserve and what you do not? Your life is yours alone, what others say do not matter. If you speak negatively about your own life, then so shall it be.”  
  
“It is time for you to be hopeful, my child,” Miranda added. “Your prophecies are ahead of your mind. They are hopeful, certain that the future holds better things than the past.”  
  
Draco allowed himself to smile. “Maybe it is time, then, for me to work to make them happen.”  
  
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.  
  
Sometimes, Draco would see Potter at a Ministry function. However, he was always standing next to his ex-housemates, and he wasn’t going to risk approaching him.  
  
“Maybe you should find him after work or something,” Pansy commented. “Ask him out for an after-work drink. They go out to have drinks quite regularly, those Gryffindors.”  
  
“What if he asks me to tag along with them?” Draco asked as he rolled his eyes. “I don’t want to be thrown into the lion’s den.”  
  
“It’s a public place, Draco,” Pansy said somewhat condescendingly, and he hated her for it. “They’re not going to maul you there. Maybe in a dark alley afterwards, but not in the pub.”  
  
“Gee, that sure helps reassure me,” Draco said sarcastically. “You’re such a positive person.”  
  
Pansy shrugged. “Your own fault for asking my advice. Maybe you should have asked Blaise instead.”  
  
“He’d suggest I go dressed in nothing but a robe and surprise him into shagging me.”  
  
“Yeah, that sounds like him…”  
  
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.  
  
Although he would never admit it, even under pain of death, Draco was finally desperate enough to ask his mother for advice. None of his friends were sane enough in his books to give proper advice, and Miranda told him to just “ask the boy out, Draco.”  
  
“Well, why not ask him out for a friendly lunch?” Narcissa suggested. “Pretend it’s work-related, or say you want to call a truce. Bury the ratchet, or whatever it is the Muggles call it.”  
  
“The hatchet, Mother,” Draco corrected. “Did Aunt Andromeda teach you that?”  
  
“I might have picked up some phrases from her,” Narcissa said as she waved her hand dismissively. “Well then, let me know how it goes once you do that.”  
  
Surprisingly, or not, Potter wasn’t averse to the idea. In fact, he seemed relieved that he wouldn’t be spending lunch time on his own, because Weasley would spend his lunch break with Granger, leaving him alone.  
  
“How have you been, anyway?” Potter asked as he looked up from his plate of pasta. “And how is your mother? Well, I hope?”  
  
“She is quite well, thank you for asking,” Draco said. “And I’ve been… quite well, too. I suppose things could be worse.”  
  
Potter made a noise of acknowledgement but didn’t continue the thread of discussion. “So, any chance we are able to talk about work?” he asked with a grin.  
  
“Nice try, Potter,” Draco said as he rolled his eyes. “We are called the Unspeakables for a reason. Now, why not talk about something more interesting. How is Teddy doing?”  
  
Thankfully, they found common ground with Teddy. Although Draco did not get to spend a lot of time with Teddy, he cared a lot for his cousin, and Teddy cared for him too, as proven by his affinity for platinum blond hair.  
  
The lunch was more pleasant than Draco expected. He knew that Potter did not hold any grudge against him, not since the end of war, but he was not obliged to be pleasant to Draco either. Yet he was pleasant, respectful and tactful, something that he expected was taught by Granger because both Weasley and him were quite tactless when speaking.  
  
“Thank you for the lunch,” Potter said as he grinned at Draco. “We should do this more often.”  
  
“If you insist,” Draco said, but there was a hint of smile on his face. If Potter was the one who initiated contact between them, it was even better than he expected. He didn’t need to know that Draco reached out to him because of a prophecy. After an entire childhood of living under the shadow of a prophecy, he didn’t think Potter would be too excited to know his future was dictated by another one.  
  
So Draco would let him think that the entire thing was Potter’s own idea. That might be the best for everyone.  
  
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.  
  
The lunch meetings continued to become a regular occurrence, and although Weasley would still sometimes ask Granger to check if they could ask a Healer to make sure that Potter was still of sound mind, at least he had stopped giving Draco suspicious looks and had also stopped checking if Draco had spiked Potter’s drink with an illegal potion.  
  
Teddy was overjoyed to know his cousin and godfather were getting along now, because that meant he could play with both of them at the same time.  
  
Narcissa and Andromeda were delighted too, as they could have a bigger family gathering. The Weasley matriarch had also accepted Draco surprisingly quickly, and although he still felt bad for all the suffering he had caused the Weasleys, they didn’t blame him for it, and the dinners were somewhat pleasant.  
  
The only negative thing, in Draco’s mind, out of this whole ordeal was that his visions had decreased significantly in frequency. It was strange, but he found himself missing those visions, because they were comforting to him. They were like promises of a future he would have, and so more often than not, he would hole himself in his room and revisit the old prophecies.  
  
Liusaidh. That was the name of his first child; sophisticated enough to be a Malfoy name, and meaningful and down-to-earth enough to be a Potter name. It meant warrior, a fitting name for a child whose father had spent most of his life fighting. Fighting against evil, and fighting for good. She was quiet, but intelligent. Her eyes were sharp, as were her facial features.  
  
“She’s your carbon copy,” the Harry in his vision would say. “Maybe this is what you would have looked like if you were born a girl. I would have hit on you during school if you were a girl.”  
  
He would playfully swat at Harry’s arm, and Liusaidh would puff up her chest in pride. She was daddy’s little princess, and she loved it when Harry said she was beautiful, whether directly or not.  
  
Their second child was named Morgan. Harry had asked if it was taken after Morgana, and Draco had rolled his eyes and told him if he wanted to name his child after anyone, it would have been Merlin himself.  
  
Morgan was born near the seaside. The family was visiting a beach on a summer holiday when Draco’s water broke, and their Healer had come there to help with the birth.  
  
As with the first pregnancy, the second birth was a bit difficult as well.  
  
Liusaidh was a breech baby. The Wizarding community didn’t encounter a lot of breech babies, if at all, so they had to go to a Muggle hospital to get her born by a caesarean section. Halfway through, Draco started bleeding too much, and both he and the baby were at risk. However, they both pulled through, and that was another reason why she was named Liusaidh.  
  
She was a little fighter, even from birth.  
  
Morgan’s birth was somewhat easier than Liusaidh’s, thankfully. He was a fighter too, and Narcissa was actually the one to suggest the name Morgan. It meant sea warrior, and Harry didn’t complain because the name wasn’t that uncommon.  
  
Morgan looked just like Harry, and Draco wondered if their third child would look like a mix of them both, finally, or if they would look like one of them still.  
  
Morgan was also more carefree, enjoying all the little things in life as much as he could. It was endearing, really, to see him play in a leaf pile as if it was the best thing he had ever encountered, or seeing him eat his breakfast porridge like it was a meal made by a world-famous chef.  
  
Their third child was a handful. They still didn’t know the gender, but this time around, they chose to let it be a surprise. The baby would move around and kick seemingly every five minutes. While it amused Harry to no end, it was a nightmare for Draco’s bladder.  
  
“What do you think of Aidan?” Draco asked one day, out of the blue, just as they were finishing up their lunch.  
  
“Pardon?” Potter asked, looking up at him curiously. “Who’s Aidan?”  
  
“No one,” Draco said, shaking his head. “I meant, what do you think of the name Aidan?”  
  
“It depends,” Potter said, frowning slightly. “If you want to name your crup—“  
  
“I do not have a crup,” Draco cut him off, rolling his eyes. “And neither is Teddy getting one. I will not let you fall victim to his puppy dog eyes.”  
  
Potter chuckled. “So why the sudden interest in names? Is anyone you know giving birth soon?”  
  
“Just thinking about the future,” Draco mumbled, leaning back in his seat, and staring outside the window. What if Potter didn’t like the names? What if he wanted to name their children something else? What would happen to Liusaidh and Morgan?  
  
What if he wanted to name them after his parents? Lily and James Potter?  
  
“I think it’s a good name,” Potter said. “And apparently it’s unisexual too, so we don’t need to know the gender beforehand.”  
  
“It means little fire,” Draco mused.  
  
“Fitting name, then,” Potter said with a chuckle. “They probably will inherit your temper. A dragon and his fire, a combination that you do not want to mess with.”  
  
“Inherit my temper?” Draco snorted. “Why are you so sure the name is for my future child? And what if they inherited my partner’s temperament instead?”  
  
“Because you’re not the only one who knows the future,” Potter said simply.  
  
Draco was about to pick up his teacup but the shock caused him to let go. It clattered loudly against the saucer, and he was thankful the cup was half-empty so that it didn’t spill on him.  
  
“What?”  
  
“I’ve been to the Hall of Prophecy, remember?” Potter asked with a chagrined look on his face. “The one you call Miranda… she already foretold that future. I saw the prophecy amongst the ones in the Hall, and I took it home with me. Only those involved in the prophecy could take it outside the Hall, but it did let me take it.”  
  
Draco frowned. So Miranda knew all along. Why didn’t she say anything?  
  
“What would you have done if you knew?” Potter asked. “Would it make a difference?”  
  
“I don’t know,” Draco admitted truthfully.  
  
“I know why I found it first,” Potter said. “Maybe I needed more time. Time to get used to the idea, time to accept the fact that my life has been and will be dictated by prophecies, and… and time to fall in love with it.”  
  
“At first, I doubted it. I didn’t believe we could be friends, let alone partners. I knew, well, I hoped you were changed, ever since that… incident in the bathroom, which I am sorry for, by the way. But I didn’t dare hope,” Potter explained, and it felt like there was a weight being lifted from Draco’s shoulders.  
  
He wasn’t the only one feeling that way. Most importantly, he wasn’t the only one who hoped for that future.  
  
“I slowly fell in love,” Potter—no, Harry, said. “I fell in love with Lucy—“  
  
“Who’s Lucy?” Draco cut him off, frowning.  
  
Harry burst out laughing. “Are you seriously jealous?” he asked, still laughing. “Lucy is a nickname for Liusaidh, you know. I’m not fancy or posh like you, so of course I’ll call her Lucy instead of Liusaidh.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“So, I fell in love with Lucy. I fell in love with Morgan. With all the time we’ve been spending together, I’ve come to care for you too. I can’t say I’m in love with you yet, and I don’t expect you to be in love with me either, but I care for you, and we can at least try?” Harry asked hopefully.  
  
“I was afraid you would say no,” Draco admitted. “Yes, of course, we could try.”  
  
“Oh, and for the record, I don’t mind naming our third child Aidan. It’s nice to get some kind of cheat sheet, so we don’t have to worry about the names of our children.”  
  
Draco chuckled as he shook his head in disbelief. It seemed Miranda was right anyway. A prophecy would always come to pass, and in a matter of years, he would meet Lucy, Morgan, and Aidan, and lead a happy, ridiculously domestic life with Harry and them.  
  
His grin widened at the thought. He couldn’t wait.

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: I changed the prompt a little bit. Instead of a child, I made them have children together, although the vision had not yet come to pass at the end of the fic. Also, I didn’t use any of the children’s names from the actual book, I hope you all don’t mind.
> 
> Also, since the story is mainly from Draco’s POV, the differences in names used are deliberate. When they were still acquaintances, Harry was always Potter. But in his visions, it was Harry, not Potter, because they’re together and have kids together.


End file.
